


Not Quite Another Holmes Family Dinner

by afteriwake



Series: Meddlesome [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4466075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a bit miffed that his mother interfered in his love life, even if it did end up in him finally having a date with Molly. But considering said first date is a Holmes family dinner, which <i>never</i> seem to end well, he isn’t sure he should be too happy about that. This particular dinner, however, doesn’t seem to go the way they normally do, though, and he’s quite suspicious as to <i>why</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Another Holmes Family Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bakerst_sherlolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakerst_sherlolly/gifts), [daisherz365](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/gifts).



> So when I posted the story before this on Tumblr it was quite popular, and I mentioned the possibility of a sequel, which **bakerst-sherlolly** asked me for. So I decided it could be a very interesting series where literally _everyone_ decides to meddle in the love life of Sherlock Holmes. Anyway, this story is also inspired by a headcanon from **[daisherz365](http://sincerelydayyy.tumblr.com/post/121058568910/let-there-be-headcanons-i)** on Tumblr ( _Sherlock cursing his mum silently for interfering with his plans to court Molly in his own time. Altering his plan minimally to make it work, still._ ).

He really could make his own dates.

Really.

He’d been considering ways of asking Molly to join him for the inevitable debacle that was going to be dinner with his family. After the Christmas where he had poisoned all of them and Mary with a sleeping draught he had thought they would learn that family dinners were a very bad idea but no, his mother had been most insistent. And so Mycroft just _had_ to show off and book them the chef’s table at Marcus to impress their parents. He had known Anthea was going to be there, so it would have been him alone unless he had brought someone, and he had been working out a way to ask her when she called out of the blue saying she’d run into his mum.

He didn’t believe it for a second. His mother had to have engineered it in some way. She was so desperate to get the two sons of hers she actually spoke to married off, to have grandchildren before she was too old to enjoy them, that he wouldn’t put it past her to manipulate her way into Molly’s path and then oh so casually maneuver the conversation to the upcoming dinner and then insinuate that Molly come along. She had always been quite sneaky, quite clever. After all, he’d had to have gotten it from _somewhere_ , and it certainly hadn’t been from his father.

As it stood now, he was outside Molly’s door, a bouquet of flowers in hand. His mother had said they’d met at the flower stalls, and so she knew exactly what Molly would want. She’d tried to insist he bring some calla lilies mixed in with some roses, since that was what she said Molly would want. He had tried to say if Molly had bought flowers just the day before and had bought _those_ exact flowers, and dozens of them, that he should get her something different. In the end he was triumphant, and he was holding a dozen amaryllises in his hand. She didn’t have to keep them all together, he reasoned; she could add them to her other arrangements if she so chose.

He had knocked, and after a moment the door opened and he looked at her, his eyes a little wide. Since John’s wedding he hadn’t seen her dressed up, and on that particular occasion he had thought she was a bit too overdressed, too much like a girl playing dress-up. He hadn’t expected anything as vivacious as the dress she had worn to the Christmas party either, as the dress code for the restaurant was smart casual. But she looked quite lovely in what she wore now, a light bluish-green sleeveless dress with a blue pattern on it of intricate lines interspersed occasionally with fleur-de-lis, gathered in at the waist with a skirt that came out. She wore a pearl necklace that lay nicely above the scooped neckline and when he looked lower he saw she had on cream colored heels, the same shade as the necklace. “Hello, Sherlock,” she said with a smile when he looked back up at her face.

“You look very nice,” he said before holding the flowers out. “For you.”

“Oh, they’re lovely!” she said, her eyes lighting up and her smile getting wider. “Come in. I just need to put these in water and get my clutch and my wrap and then we can go.” She moved out of the way and he came inside. He’d spent quite a bit of time in her home but it seemed different now since they were on a date. “Just get comfortable.”

He nodded before sitting in his normal chair. He looked around and saw the flowers she had gotten the day before in vases scattered around her sitting room and kitchen. He tried to focus on that but his eyes kept drawing back to her, appreciating the curve in her calves, the way the skirt moved around her legs as she walked from one point to another. She’d decided to wear her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck and he could appreciate the curve of her neck more. He’d studied her countless times but this…this was different, and he had to get a grip on himself. Just because he was attracted to her and she was attractive didn’t mean it needed to get out of hand.

Finally she was done putting the flowers in water and then she went to the table near his chair and picked up a lacy crocheted wrap and a small cream colored clutch. She draped the wrap over her shoulders, letting it settle on her upper arms, and then she looked down at him. “I’m ready.”

“All right,” he said, standing up. They made their way to her door and then left her home, pausing briefly to lock up. He’d had the cab wait for them, even though he knew the fare was going to be exorbitant, and so they got inside of it and it pulled away from the curb and began to go to the restaurant. He decided after a moment it would be fair to give her some warning as to what to expect. “I almost feel as though I should warn you that family dinners never tend to go well.” 

“I thought as much, after what Mary told me happened at Christmas,” she said. “When she told me about your parents’ reaction to being drugged I got the feeling that, while it was extreme, it wasn’t surprising.”

“Yes, well, that was because we were at home,” he said. “Things are marginally better in public, which is why dinner tonight is at a restaurant as opposed to Mycroft’s home. It’s probably also why he reserved the chef’s table for us, so we’d be observed by the kitchen staff and on our best behaviour.”

“Do you two really act like five-year-olds all the time when you’re forced to be together?” she asked, giving him a grin.

“Most of the time. When we try to be anything else it’s…awkward,” he said, his thoughts going back to the conversation in his mother’s garden before he stole Mycroft’s laptop on Christmas. “I’m glad you’re here, though. It’s always a pain being the odd one out.”

“Well, I suppose if I wanted a date one of us needed to ask sooner or later, so it’s just as well it was me,” she said.

“I was going to ask,” he grumbled. “I was just trying to figure out how.”

She chuckled softly. “Then you can ask me out on our second date.”

“How do you know there will be a second?” he asked, turning to look at her.

“I’ve been on many horrible dates before, Sherlock, more than I can count on both hands. I doubt _anything_ that happens tonight will be worse than some of the dates I’ve been on.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly and his eyes widened. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I thought kissing was supposed to come at the end of the date,” he said.

“Well, you looked as though you could use some reassurance,” she said with a smile. “So long as you don’t flirt with the female staff in front of me, or engineer for the woman who made the tabloid claims to accidentally join us so you can make her jealous, or down so much liquor you vomit on my lap I think you’ll be fine.”

“All of those things happened to you?” he asked.

“Well, obviously it was a different woman in the second example, but yes,” she said with a nod. “Those were all first dates I went on where there wasn’t a second.”

“Then I will endeavour to be on my best behaviour this evening,” he said. “I definitely do not want to leave an untoward impression on you.”

“I may give you some leniency towards your brother,” she said with a grin. “He can be a world class git at times.”

He answered with a grin of his own. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Molly,” he said.

“There’s only one?” she teased.

“No, there are quite a few,” he said, becoming more serious.

“Then save them for times when I’m feeling down, and tell me one to make me smile,” she said. She stared at him for a long moment, warm smile on her face, and then she pulled away. “So. What is a typical Holmes family dinner like?”

He moved into his own side of the cab more and then went into some of the things he and his brothers had done to each other as children. She knew about his third brother; she had known about him before John did, actually, as he had told her the night after his fall when he had half a bottle of whiskey in him and he was ranting and raving and she was trying to quiet him down. The fact she had listened to him ramble on for hours and hours, late into the evening and almost until the sun came up, had only proven to him that he had trusted the right person, and that she had every right to know his secrets. He still felt he had made the best choice in trusting her.

They made it to the restaurant and he got out first before helping her out. They made their way inside to find the others already there. Of course; they were all staying together and Mycroft _would_ want to arrive early to make sure everything was in order. “Do not say we’re late,” Sherlock said when Mycroft opened his mouth. His brother shut it and gave him a mild glare. “The reservation was for seven and it is six fifty-eight.”

“I was going to say I’m glad we can be seated now,” Mycroft said in a clipped tone. He nodded discreetly to someone, and soon they were being ushered towards a fancy room near the kitchen. The men sat on one side of the long table and their dates sat across from them. Sherlock and Molly were closest to the preparation area while Mycroft and Anthea were at the head of the table, and Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were between them.

A well appointed gentleman went towards Mycroft. “Your selection for the evening?” he asked.

“The regular taste menu for four servings, the vegetarian taste menu for myself and her,” Mycroft said, nodding to Anthea.

“Very well,” he said with a nod. “And choice of wine?”

Mycroft considered it. “Whatever the chef recommends that pairs best with the meal.”

“As you wish,” he said. He made his way out of their private dining area at that point, leaving the six of them alone.

“Watching your weight, Mycroft?” Sherlock asked innocently.

Mycroft gave him a mild glare. “I was told a vegetarian diet would be best when eating out,” he said. “The food is still good. I won’t be missing much.”

“Oh, but we’ll be enjoying caviar and lobster while you get duck egg and curd,” he said. He glanced over at Molly, half expecting to see a look of disapproval, but all he saw her do was shake her head slightly as the corner of her mouth inched up. It wasn’t an encouragement, though, not really, so he would stop goading his brother for now. He would save it for some other point in the evening.

“Molly, you really do look lovely,” Violet said. “The dress was the perfect choice.”

“It was very nice,” Molly said with a smile. “I don’t normally go to that shop but I may have to visit again.”

“If my son takes you out on more dates you’ll need nice things to wear,” she said with a nod.

Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh as Mycroft smirked. “That had been the general plan, Mum.”

“One you were quite slow to act upon,” Mycroft said as he picked up his glass of water to take a sip.

“Oh, like you’ve been any quicker with your plan to propose to Andrea,” he said with a sneer. Anthea had a very triumphant look on her face when he said that, he noticed, while Mycroft looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Well, there had been _plans_ ,” Mycroft said, adjusting his tie. “Plans that you have just dashed.”

“I’ll still act surprised,” Anthea said in response. “But if it takes you longer than two weeks, Mycroft, they had best be very extravagant plans.”

Mycroft turned and glared at him, and Sherlock smirked back before turning away. “I will make you pay for that, brother mine,” he said in a low voice.

“Mycroft? Take a look at Mum’s face right now,” he said, looking back at his brother for a moment and nodding towards their mother. He watched as his brother’s head turned and then he did as well, and they both saw the look of utter contentment and joy on their mother’s face. “Now just remember, your news put that look there.”

Mycroft looked mollified at that. “I suppose your punishment won’t be too terrible,” he said after a moment.

Sherlock glanced back at Molly and saw her grinning at him. He grinned back at her, relaxing a bit. So far the dinner was going well enough. After what could have been a disastrous turn of events perhaps it boded well for the evening. And as the meal continued, and they were treated to course after course after course of exquisite food, the mood managed to stay relaxed. It was remarkable for a family dinner to go so well…and utterly uncommon. As the fourth course came around he began to suspect that there was more to it than everyone being relaxed. By the sixth course he was convinced there was meddling.

By the eighth course, when everyone was fully sated and had a few glasses of wine in them and there was still nothing more than a few insignificant squabbles, he knew that his mother had done something major to keep the peace.

He wanted to find out what.

Mycroft had ignored his mobile all night but as soon as the dessert course had been served and savored and their compliments had been delivered to the chef both he and Anthea took out their mobiles. They began to check them, giving glances to each other across the table, speaking in the oddly nonverbal language they had with each other. Finally Mycroft spoke. “Andrea and I have business to attend to that will keep us in the office until quite late in the evening. Mummy, Father, the driver will take you back to my home. We’ll take another mode of transportation.”

“It was lovely seeing you again, Violet,” Anthea said as she stood, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“And you as well, dear,” she said with a smile. “Good night.”

Mycroft came around and kissed his mother’s cheek as well. “I’ll talk to you in the morning about what family jewelry might be appropriate.”

“I’m already trying to narrow down what might fit,” she said. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, Mum.” Then he turned to Molly and gave her a nod. “Good night, Molly.”

“Good night, Mycroft,” she said with a smile. He gave his brother a nod and then he and Anthea left the private dining area. Molly then turned to Violet. “I should really be getting home as well. I have work tomorrow, and I’d hoped to get in early so I could tackle the backlog of paperwork I have. I figured an extra hour in the morning and another in the evening should do the trick.”

“Of course,” she said. Molly stood up and gave Violet a hug, and she had a warm smile on her face as she hugged Molly back. “I need to talk to Sherlock for a moment, but if you’d like, Richard can keep you company.”

“I’d like that very much,” Molly said as she pulled away, giving Mr. Holmes a smile. She got her clutch and took Mr. Holmes’s arm when he offered it, and soon the two of them left, leaving Sherlock and his mother alone.

“You want to know why tonight was not a disaster,” Violet said shrewdly, looking at her youngest son.

“Mycroft should have found ways to subtly take jabs at me throughout the meal for ruining the surprise of the proposal,” he said, leaning forward. "He should have taken every advantage to take the piss out of me for making his life harder, regardless of whether Molly was here or not. I know he’s fond of her, but he’s not _that_ fond of her. So why wasn’t tonight an unmitigated disaster?”

Violet leaned forward as well. “I told your brother, in the simplest of terms, that if he did not want certain embarrassing facts that I have kept hidden from you, from your other brother and from his soon-to-be fiancée to _remain_ hidden, he would ensure that tonight went well no matter how much you goaded him so that Molly did not regret going on a date with you.”

Sherlock felt the corner of his mouth inch up. “And I am assuming you have photographic evidence of these embarrassing facts.”

“I have video,” she said with a smirk. She then gave Sherlock a more fond look. “Mothers aren’t supposed to have favorites. And I do love Mycroft, and even though he doesn’t want to be any part of our family I love Reginald as well, but…you were my gift, Sherlock. We weren’t expecting any more children and you came along and you were my gift, and even though things didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, you have always the one I’ve been fondest of. I just want you to be happy, and I think Molly will make you quite happy.”

He got up from his side of the table and went around to her, then leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. “All right. But stop meddling. I can handle my own romantic endeavours just fine.”

“I may meddle from time to time,” she said as he pulled away. “Mother’s rights and all that.”

He shook his head. “I suppose it was too much to ask.” Violet stood up and he offered her his arm. They made their way out and towards Molly and Mr. Holmes. Molly was laughing at something his father was saying and he was struck by how absolutely lovely she looked. He cleared his throat. “I believe I’m supposed to escort you home now?”

“I believe you are,” she said with a smile. She gave his parents a wave and then looked over at him before they left the restaurant. They got into a cab and she sat close to him. “I had a very lovely evening.”

“I think that was the intent,” he said.

“I had the feeling your mother would do whatever it took to make sure tonight went well,” she said with a soft laugh. “What did she resort to?”

“The old ways,” he said with a grin. “Blackmail.”

“It must be very interesting blackmail for the evening to have gone as well as it did,” she said.

“I imagine I’ll pay my penance for ruining his proposal plans soon enough,” he said.

She inched closer to him. “Well, whatever it is he does, tell him I’ll be cross with him if it upsets you too much.”

“And if it upsets me a little?” he asked, moving his hand closer to where hers was resting on the seat.

“Then I may just have to take your mind off of things,” she said. “I may just have to invite you over and cook for you or something.”

“I can tell you right now whatever his plans are will be mildly upsetting Thursday evening, around six thirty,” he said with a small grin.

“Why so far away?” she asked.

“Because that gives me time to ask you out on a proper date, without interference from anyone else,” he said. “I suppose I should do that for the second date.”

“That would be very nice,” she said. 

“I would like to ask you something else first, though,” he said, taking her hand in his.

“All right,” she said, smiling at him.

He looked at her, studying her, hoping he was not being too forward. “May I kiss you?” he finally asked.

He smile got even wider and seemed to brighten as well. “I thought you’d never ask,” she said, leaning in more. He met her halfway and pressed his lips against her in a soft kiss. It was gentle and tender, but there was an undercurrent there of passion, just beneath the surface. This boded well for any other kisses that were to come and, he hoped, that there would be plenty of them.


End file.
